Dreamcast II: The Ivory Host
by leahhlee
Summary: Battles are brewing behind the linesSequel to Dreamcast I
1. This Broken Body

A/N: Dreamcast begins anew in Book II: The Ivory Host! This will include a bit of first person telling. You like?  
  
Quick recap: Rivers wrecked her car after fighting with her retarded brother and ends up in Middle Earth, Weathertop, to be exact. The witch- King of Agmar stabs her; she is taken to Rivendell, and is sent with the Fellowship to Lothlorien. She was then skewered by and orc and fell from the spear due to a tear in her stomach. (Bleech!) We find Rivers on the ground, fighting for something she should have left alone.  
  
Rivers' POV  
  
I'm crawling, running along the surface of the ground. I'm slipping through the cracks, because I worry that they won't find me, but my belly is leaving a thick trail of scarlet, like a crimson carpet to my corpse. I'm scampering along, blundering through the woods and I'm dying, I can feel it.  
  
And then it hits me.  
  
If I die here, I can go home.  
  
Back to Kyler and the morgue.  
  
Then something else literally hits me. As in, ouch, that hurts.  
  
It's the blunt end of and orc blade, and it flips me over. My stomach is gouged open and they can see I'm hanging on to life by my fingernails. I think Merry and Pippin were in there somewhere, but I'm not sure.  
  
The lead one grimaces at me. "Fresh meat, anyone?"  
  
He raises his blade. Not now, I think, and grab something around my waist. Our weapons meet and he gasps, and so do I.  
  
It's the Cúron Ivor.  
  
He recoils and I shove it in my mouth and blow.  
  
A sound comes out this time, long and graceful, sleek yet sharp. They stop and sway, drugged, before they rage against each other. I can't hear, I can't even see, so I can't be sure if they are eating me alive or tearing themselves apart. I scream aloud and cry when I can't hear myself, can't feel the tears spilling across my cheeks.  
  
Is this dying? It doesn't feel so bad.  
  
I try to recall a conversation between Kyler and I, summoning the scattered pieces of me in one last wish to see him again.  
  
*Flashback*  
  
"If I was sick with cancer, I wouldn't die."  
  
Pause.  
  
"I don't know why they die."  
  
"I don't know why anybody dies except when they're beheaded or skewered by an orc."  
  
"Orcs aren't real."  
  
"Would you still be saying that when you're on the ground with an orc spear stuck in you?"  
  
*Flashback*  
  
I laugh. 'No, I would I say you were right,' I think. Tears are drizzling across my cheeks; I know it, even if I can't feel them. 'I'm so proud of you!'  
  
I hear someone whisper in my ear. I hope it's Legolas. I don't know why. But at least I can hear this. They are coaxing me. I beg mentally, pleading to them that I can't hear, can't move, and I'm half-blind.  
  
They grow louder, vexed that I would not try to do anything. I catch words: 'sorry', 'awake' and the familiar word, 'Sirion'. I can only imagine why that was in there. The flute is speaking to me.  
  
With one shred of strength, I pick up the wretched crystal and try to break it. I don't care if it's feeble attempt, but this Cúron Ivor is scaring the shit out of me. Call it rash, call it desperate, call it what you want! Just make it shut up. My dying should be peaceful.  
  
I feel it slip. I switch the voices off, mid-syllable. A smile is propped up on my lips as I blow my legacy to the halls of Middle Earth.  
  
Eomer's POV  
  
It was by far the strangest thing I've seen. A bloody, dead girl ringed by clean orcs, just as dead as her. And that's saying something.  
  
Her hair was dipped in her blood and I think her eyes were white, but I couldn't tell in the dark. How she killed them or even if she did so, is a mystery to me, but nonetheless, she was dead so we piled her with the rest of the orcs and burned her.  
  
I swear I heard her sigh when I set her alight. 


	2. Scarring of my Soul

Chapter 2: Scarring of my Soul  
  
Legolas' POV  
  
We ran for hours following the smell of this girl—woman—until we found her trail of deep crimson. Sown into the earth. Half a mile away, I'm sure her wound is clogged with dirt.  
  
'If Rivers gets better, I promise not to ever let her out of my sight,' I prayed. I didn't bargain for Rivers' life because I didn't believe she was in danger of dying. Was I wrong!  
  
Some men pointed us towards the mass graves established just outside of Fangorn forest. Sure enough, there was Rivers...  
  
...Smoldering alongside the countless other dead.  
  
Her body was slashed down her stomach, contents spilling out. Aragorn concurred she had been dead for a half hour. "I'm sorry, Legolas," he said in Elvish.  
  
Why was he apologizing? It wasn't his fault. And why was he apologizing to me? I'm not her lover or her brother. From what she's told me, he'd be too confused to understand his sister's death.  
  
I find a strange similarity between Kyler and I. I've been moiling over it ever since he was first introduced; she seemed to love him and omit his faults...but if she really loved him, wouldn't she have to love everything about him? I try to explain her death to him mentally, secretly teaching myself as well. I wish she could have seen him one last time.  
  
The Cúron Ivor is near the foot of the grave. There are imprints of the flute in Rivers hands, yet it is untouched by scarlet. I dislike the way it shines so proudly. I pocket it anyway.  
  
As we scurried through Fangorn, I found it hard to concentrate. I was tripping over hidden roots, smeared with natural camouflage. I imagined Rivers beside me, panting from the walk. Each time, a soft wind breathed a whisper through the trees.  
  
If she was gone, why wouldn't she just leave? Her imaginary presence cut into me, growing deeper with each step.  
  
Then, I hear them.  
  
Voices, soft, chattering under the wind, drift into my peaked ears. They are almost inaudible. I catch one word, and pull out Rivers' flute—"Sirion."  
  
For some weird reason, I twist the tube, and its clicks. The voices vaporize and I feel strangely comfortable. I tuck the flute away and scurry behind Aragorn.  
  
(3rd person)  
  
The mystic hues of a lost world snap back into her vision. A sharp, high click echoes across the expanses of Middle Earth. Animals cringe, plants wilt, and a corpse stirs from its eternal slumber.  
  
Rivers was awake, alive and well as ever. Her stomach was smoothly sewn shut, the surgical crevices becoming invisible to her eyes and touch. Her blue habit, however, is rent to pieces, reminding her faintly of a gypsy floundering through battle.  
  
What had happened? She remembered hearing music... but that was it. Nothing else. Just music...  
  
"Oh m'god! Where is it?"  
  
The flute was gone! She dug through the smoldering bodies of the orcs below her and was mortified to discover it had been abducted. 'Galadriel is gonna kill me...'  
  
Now what? She was marooned in Middle Earth, this time completely clueless and unarmed. She was positive she couldn't give directions to any help nearby. Worse, if she had to go somewhere, she could stumble upon an orc encampment, or even Frodo.  
  
She did have to somewhere. If she didn't, she'd be force to cannibalize her marauders, and she almost retched at the thought. Her collected a few things for her trip: a sword, a plump canteen, a pennywhistle, and a sack to tie them together. She laughed at herself. Rivers of Hastings, Middle Earth's hobo.  
  
The sunrise was waning, the fluorescent remnants of the aged sky reflecting in Rivers' pearly eyes. She hoped Legolas was looking at the same sun, somewhere, anywhere, just to gaze upon it for one second.  
  
How long had she been gone? Minutes, hours, days? Based on the intactness of the corpses, she guessed a day or two. He could be anywhere. His elven feet could have lifted him far from here.  
  
A rustle in the woods drew Rivers to her feet. Her sword gleamed in the sunshine, its bearer shaking. 'My first fight by myself,' she thought. 'Bring it on!'  
  
A pale, long snout budded out of the greenery. She had seen this face before. It was a horse, as white as Rivers' eyes. She had never seen something so white, yet it was strangely familiar...  
  
"Shadowfax?"  
  
The horse nickered, trotting over to her with a friendly wind. He tossed his head, mane flickering in the light, before rubbing against her face in a gesture of accord.  
  
Suddenly, a whistle broke across the wind. They both froze. Shadowfax neighed obligingly before walking away. Seeing that she did not follow, he bit her gown, tugging her from the burning corpses. The whistle hissed again. Shadowfax desperately pulled her away, pace increasing as three more shouts came from over the hill.  
  
She understood. "He's calling you, isn't he? Gandalf wants you to come."  
  
The horse snorted, bullying her into another step.  
  
Rivers cambered up onto its back and they took off at a full gallop over the swells of grass. The whistle had stopped somewhere in it all...  
  
Rivers smiled. Finally, the gears of fate were spinning. Little did she know, someone was about to shove a wrench in to screw it all up. 


	3. A New Direction

Dreamcast II: The Ivory Host Chapter 3: A New Direction  
  
Rivers POV  
  
A large hill loomed before us, the steep incline reminding me of the winter slopes of Hastings, lavished with snow. The snow was a thick grass, which provided an unsafe footing. But Shadowfax would conquer it, just like he did the rest. In seconds, he had carved his way up and we were resting atop it.  
  
Just then, I spotted four men lining the border to a forest a quarter mile away. I knew who they were; I had been expecting them for the past hour.  
  
There was the wizard, lacking his pointed hat. Aragorn stood next to him with a callused hand clapping Gimli's beefy shoulder. Then, there was him.  
  
Him! You know who I'm talking about! The one and only HIM. Legolas.  
  
I could feel him from atop the swell of earth, elvish grace sweeping with the wind. His big blue eyes are open and his fingers are relaxing, recoiling from the bowstring...  
  
Then Gandalf whistles. Instead of barreling down the hill like I half expected him to do, we turn and go west, or, at least I think I was west.  
  
I close my eyes and burrow my fingers into Shadowfax's silken mane. My heart is breaking—I came so close to seeing him again. What did he think when he saw my torn and bleeding body? I remember the dying, the painless slip. I remember seeing Kyler and playing the flute. I remember—  
  
"Oi!"  
  
My eyes are open. "Who's there?"  
  
My own voice answers me, except it has a venomous crack. "Shut up, brownie."  
  
The first voice says, "I was only trying to help!"  
  
"I don't need your help, Boromir! I have to defeat Sauron, not because I'm a haughty brat, but because he has Kyler and-"  
  
"You honestly think your brother cares anymore? He's so bent on keeping the story straight that it won't matter...!"  
  
"You honestly think I care either? I have a story too, apart from yours! This isn't a book anymore, Boromir! It's a full-fledged fairy tale, about to end with no happily ever after!"  
  
Either I have gone mad, or my flute has reunited with me.  
  
Probably the first one.  
  
Eowyn's POV  
  
What a grand escort she had, this Lady Rivers. The mystical horse Shadowfax delivered her to us personally. Ever since, she hasn't left his side, minus one meal and two sleeps. Her face was flushed when she got here, claiming to be a messenger of the White Wizard himself.  
  
She constantly looks through a spyglass I lent her. I asked why, and she said she was looking to a person she'd not seen in a while. Her hand brushed against her ear. Did she mean and elf?  
  
Rivers is indeed very pretty, in a latent way. Her white eyes spooked me at first, but I suppose all White Messengers carry that emblem of authority. I especially like the comparison between her milky pearls and Shadowfax's face. Her fingers curl around it delicately and she escapes the burdened land of war-torn frenzy.  
  
A horn sounded. Her spyglass flew to her eye, and she brimmed with happiness at the sight. "They're here!" Gowns and banded tresses flying, she scrambled to greet them, and Shadowfax trumpeted loudly before following.  
  
Aragorn's POV  
  
I was very happy when I saw her, but what was I suppose to do to greet her. She swept me her finest curtsy and let a lustful eye drift to Legolas. She's falling in love with him even if she doesn't know it. I wonder how that feels?  
  
Gandalf tipped his head before rubbing Shadowfax primly on the muzzle. Gimli grumbled, which made her laugh. It was a mournful laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.  
  
Gandalf had us lay down our weapons before we entered the throne room. Rivers was forced to wait outside for saying, "I am a weapon," purely for a bit of fun. Hama sees no fun these days.  
  
Théoden reminded me of a shriveled pinecone, lathered with the ages of men. His snake of a comrade would not let us cleanse him, ordering soldiers to make Gandalf's staff. None were willing to snatch the old man's weapon.  
  
Tensions were rising when Rivers threw open the doors. Four men tumbled to the ground behind her and she was gasping for breath. "Legolas," she rasped, and he tossed her the crystal flute.  
  
The room froze in time when she caught it. It didn't go to her lips; it flew across the room and pinned itself against Théoden's throat, tucked neatly between the aged folds of his chin and chest.  
  
The soldiers roared up and swam about the room in reckless frenzy. I knocked one on the head and kicked the greasy, weaseled Wormtongue over to Gimli, who stepped on his with his beefy foot. Three more came at me and fell to the floor. Legolas brandished his fists, looking ruthlessly efficient.  
  
Rivers stood next to Gandalf, ready to retrieve her flute when Gandalf performed the final cleansing. "Be gone!"  
  
The instrument rolled across the floor, when she scooped it up. Gandalf, grasping her shoulder, whispered something into her ear. Théoden, atop his throne, was awaking. The false hatred and features fell away and all of Rohan rejoiced once more.  
  
The rejoicing...  
  
So long have I waited for a rejoicing. 


	4. A Thousand Words

Dreamcast II: The Ivory Host Chapter 4: A Thousand Words  
  
'Ninety-nine, one hundred!'  
  
Rivers put the brush down happily, flipping her striped hair over her robed shoulder. "One hundred strokes!" She exclaimed.  
  
Someone rapped on the door. "Come in."  
  
Rivers gasped. "Legolas!"  
  
They embraced tightly. When he released her, he said softly, "I apologize for an informal reunion."  
  
"Hey, at least it's a reunion. I thought I was dead."  
  
"You were when I found you."  
  
A wounded expression settled on Rivers' docile features. "Did you leave me?"  
  
Legolas seemed a bit mournful. His hand traced her jaw line as he whispered, "What was I supposed to do? Haul you around with us? Sorry, but you were dead! Orcs like that smell." His hands slid to her shoulders. "I'm sorry, but it didn't look good, and we moved on."  
  
She turned away and sat on a chair. "That's okay. I would have done the same thing."  
  
Minutes squeaked by. Shattering the silence, Rivers inquired, "Well?"  
  
"Oh, yes," he said hastily, puling out her flute. "I lost the case."  
  
"That's fine." She set it aside. "Aren't you gonna ask me how I died?" She flexed her fingers on the word died.  
  
He chuckled. "We already know."  
  
"Aragorn, I presume?"  
  
Legolas managed a smile. She noticed immediately and didn't waste time. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Oh, come on." Legolas went and shut the door.  
  
"Nothing, seriously."  
  
"They fought, didn't they?" she said complacently.  
  
"No one fought," he said, tone completely giving it away.  
  
"Aragorn, Gandalf, and Théoden. About the war and the ring. Don't lie to me. I know, anyways."  
  
"He is not listening to Gandalf's wisdom! He will lead us all astray, into Sauron and all shall perish."  
  
"His decisions affect us all, but Gandalf wouldn't let it stand if he did something rash."  
  
"Everything is rash!" Legolas exclaimed. "He is emptying the city. We leave for Helm's Deep in an hour."  
  
"So?"  
  
He turned away. "I forgot. Women have no experience in strategic thinking."  
  
She found her feet and then her voice. "Don't ever say that again! That is very rash right there, so practice what you preach-"  
  
"Don't order me around!"  
  
"That's it! I'm finished." She scampered out the door and fumed down the hall. She slid into the throne room. Gandalf sipped a cup of warm rum as Aragorn paced up and down, muttering. People lined the hall, guards, peasants, and mourners.  
  
A hand caught her shoulder and she whipped around. "Don't you ever run away from me!"  
  
"Who the fuck- oh, it's the elf." She whisked out of reach and her approached her again. She continued to back up, never breaking the heated conversation.  
  
The elf spat, "I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public. I never was your type, you know?"  
  
"I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable." Her hand lashed out, but he caught it, saying, "If I wanted a kiss, I'd have asked your mother."  
  
"If I was ten times smarter than you I'd be a moron!"  
  
"Stop trying to sort things out yourself! We know what's going on!"  
  
"And I don't? You couldn't get a clue during the clue-mating season in a field full of horny clues if you smeared your body with clue musk and did the clue-mating dance!"  
  
"You git! You are a pure inspiration for birth control." As soon as the words spilled, he wished he had sucked them back up. Tears had appeared in the corners of her eyes as she said, "Quit hogging all the ugly."  
  
He turned on his heel and marched through the door. His retreat gave her strength. "Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya, bastard!"  
  
A/N: Last line was donated by Lothien ^^ Anyways, review like reviewing reviewers! 


	5. Living A Lie

Dreamcast II: The Ivory Host Chapter 5: Living A Lie  
  
Rivers' POV  
  
Nothing was realistic about it. Everything was a huge lie, one we could keep even if we wanted to. Love is suicide.  
  
A little boy tugs on my skirt. I smile at him and he returns it with dimpling folds in his baby fat.  
  
"Hello. Where's your mother?"  
  
"Mummy is on horse. Papa sent me to big man with letter." He withdrew a slimy knuckle from his mouth to hold up a folded piece of paper, which I took.  
  
I pat his head. "Tell your papa the big man will see it."  
  
"Thank you, Lady."  
  
Big man... Théoden? I mount my horse and begin a complicated weave through the crowd. Narrowly missing hands and bags, I manage to make my way across to the plaza. Legolas is there and I shudder, recalling his words from last night.  
  
A squire takes my horse and I alight the steps to Théoden and his advisors. Aragorn tips his head, Gimli grunts, and Gandalf sweeps his staff in graceful acknowledgement of my presence. I don't even see what Legolas does. Probably nothing.  
  
"Ah, Lady Rivers." Théoden bows. I curtsy.  
  
"Sir, I bring news." I had him the letter. News from whom? A village child?  
  
He scans the note quickly before folding it and handing it to a servant. "Right. Rivers, would you mind going with Legolas down to the front lines?"  
  
"Not at all, milord."  
  
He smiles and Legolas steps forward. The rest of the group dissolves into talking. "Greetings."  
  
I flash him a dull look before thundering down the steps and hoping onto my mount. I spur my horse before Legolas is halfway down the stairs.  
  
Legolas' POV  
  
What was she trying to prove? I kicked my horse, speeding up to catch the flying edges of her favorite red cloak. "Hey!"  
  
She doesn't even pause. I'm right next to her now. Reaching over, I pull on her steed's reins in a desperate attempt to slow her down. Suddenly, her head turns.  
  
Splayed across her face is the most venomous look I have ever seen propped up on someone's face. Her eyes are swollen with solid anger and her mouth is puckered, pinched like a boiled sweet.  
  
I leave her alone and continue riding by her side. The air around her is spinning with feigned hatred. Her horse increases its steps to please its rider.  
  
I have never seen her so angry. It reminds me of Lothlorien, and I wonder if she is going through the same thing. When she stops at her place in line I tell her, "I'm sorry for what I said last night."  
  
"That won't make them come back, will it?"  
  
I'm surprised to get an answer out of her. It's even worse than what I expected.  
  
"I wish I hadn't said anything."  
  
"Think about that next time you judge someone."  
  
"I was rash. I am sorry."  
  
"I know." Her voice has tone now, but I can't say what it is.  
  
"I won't do it again."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Her horse's tail flares.  
  
"Why won't you apologize too? I have!"  
  
"Because I have nothing to regret. I meant what I said. I wasn't on defense last night, Legolas. I wasn't protecting myself from a childish stereotype."  
  
My mouth is felled by her reply. She meant everything...it was true? Now she's trying to get revenge. "Look, it won't help Middle Earth if we are fighting."  
  
"Middle Earth doesn't care. I don't know if you understand this yet, but I'm not supposed to be here. My existence had defiled everything."  
  
What nonsense is she talking, to speak such a falsehood?  
  
"Our union doesn't make a difference. It never did and never will." Her head turns. Her empty white eyes are readable this time; they are brimming with...delirium?  
  
"Stop trying to invent your own prophecies."  
  
A tear spills out of her eye and washes across the smooth expanse of her cheek. She sobs, "They'll come true on their own." 


	6. Assault

Chapter 6: Assault Dreamcast II: The Ivory Host  
  
Aragorn's POV  
  
The people have begun to moan from the loads they carry. The mules can hold only so much, and the rest is slung over every back, aged or youthful. Many carry more than physical burdens on their backs: fear, cowardice, or lost hope.  
  
One of our number is acting stranger than ever. Rivers has armed every inch of her body with light daggers and chain mail. She is a walking weapon, stalking Hama and his friend. It took three men to restrain her when we sent them on a scouting mission. She knows something, I can feel it...  
  
And I don't like the feeling.  
  
(3rd person)  
  
"Wargs!"  
  
The cry from the hill swam through the crowd with a ruthless efficiency. People clambered around aimlessly, fear and confusion plaguing their heads. Rivers had her weapons drawn; four pointy hand knives protruded from her scarred palms.  
  
Aragorn clapped her shoulders and told her, "Go with Eowyn! She will need your help in guiding the people!" And with that he whirled onto his horse.  
  
Rivers flashed a devilish smile to no one and muttered, "After I kill for a bit."  
  
She snatched a white horse near by and spurred it before she was properly seated. The horse took off beneath her and she tore over the hill. Blood was heavy in the air; even the stench of the Orcs didn't surface. Rivers averted the battle, fearing death. She spotted Legolas and Gimli, hacking at Wargs as they poured over the hill. Gimli slew one, which fell on top of him. Where was Aragorn?  
  
He was wrestling with a goblin rider. The beast beneath snarled and he kicked it. She remembered where he was, and looked back to Gimli. A large wolf was on top of him, pinned beneath a pile of carcasses. Without thinking, she flung her dagger. It screamed towards the beast, striking him dead.  
  
Rivers smiled. "Here we go!" And she kicked with all her might.  
  
Legolas' POV  
  
I jabbed an orc aside with my scimitar and all most died from what I saw. It was Rivers, coming over the hill like a deadly lancer. What was she doing here? What if she died?  
  
She flew by, snatching her knife, and was speeding toward a goblin. His teeth gleamed with sludge and the warg beneath him snarled. She was untrained, and she was afraid.  
  
The goblin unhorsed her with a bloody thrust of his spear. The tip punctured her palm. In pain, she grabbed it and swung the thing off of his steed. He landed a few feet away, unharmed. Her steed reared and pummeled his hooves into its chest, but a warg tackled the horse and they flailed across the plains.  
  
I whipped an arrow to the bow, but paused. Rivers and the orc were wrestling, nearing the edge of the cliff. She had its back to the gorge and was about to finish him off. But the orc hooked its claws towards her face, and she whipped away, jagged cuts strewn across her features, the features I relished to look at untouched by battle. I released my arrow.  
  
She sprang back to her monster and he tumbled over the cliff. But the arrow sped towards her—a look of terror and a gasp of shock were cast at the arrow. She jerked as it collided with her skin. It kept going, through her skin, through her heart...  
  
"No," I whispered.  
  
The force drove her over and she fell to meet her dead orc. Over the cliff, out of my sight.  
  
And I cried. 


	7. Over My Shoulder, I Will See

Chapter 7: Over My Shoulder, I Will See  
  
KYLER'S POV  
  
I was sitting beside her when she failed. The car had crashed and she had been shoved over the headrest, eyes rolling like marbles. She was searing hot, but her lips were bluing. I was confused as Rivers say I always am. She knows I'm stupid. She calls it a birth defect. I was worried; she was probably playing a gross joke on me.  
  
I picked up the cell phone and sent Tess for help. But as soon as I hung up, something slashed across my back. I screamed as it dug in again.  
  
They call them the Jaws of Life. They cut through solid steel and my flesh was no metal rod. I remember seeing a window shatter before I drowned in darkness.  
  
When I woke up, everyone was crying. I was in a bed, with wires running through my skin, numerous sticky pads dotting my chest, and tubes down my throat. I recognized my foster mother and Tess in the corner. My tutor was there. Tears poured from their eyes when my eyes opened.  
  
Someone says, "I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault."  
  
My eyes flood with confusion, an emotion that I normally wallow in. Tess hiccoughs and clears her throat, wiping away the tears.  
  
"Kyler," she says huskily, the room silencing. Her weeping had been erased from her voice. "Rivers crashed the car."  
  
Somewhere, a sob bursts.  
  
I look deep into Tess' eyes as she says, "But you made it."  
  
It doesn't take long for my brain to process it. Soon, I'm ripping the wires from my arms, tearing the pads away, and with an odd, lurch, yanking the tubes from my throat. An infernal yell breaks from my lips as the rest of the room dissolves into sobbing. Tess starts up again, but explodes through the door and I barrel clumsily after her.  
  
We turn many corners before she slap against a door and is complete conquered by her emotions she is a hopeless pile on the floor and I shove past her and storm through the door.  
  
I'm in a room lavished with chrome. Two assistants glace at me, but recognize Tess and shuffle to a different metal square. One tugs abruptly on the handle affixed on the front and out pops a long, slender bag. The other attendant unzips it.  
  
There is my sister, her face smitten with bruises and dashed by tiny knives. Her mouth is shut and the color and emotion has drained from her once gorgeous features. No feeling has been left there. She's an empty shell, hollowed by her anger and frustration of her twin brother.  
  
I can't look anymore. I'm not looking at Rivers; I'm gazing upon her soul's hotel room. But before I can turn away, I squint, examining a graying cheek.  
  
A tear falls from her barren eye and ambles across her cheek.  
  
Suddenly, a pale memory of my sister is kneeling on the morgue floor, hair dripping across her face. She tosses it back and she seems scared. But her expression fades into disappointment, and she evaporates back into my head.  
  
I shuffle over to the corpse. It is not my sister, but she's hanging on by her fingernails to this void crust. She's fighting retribution with every last shred, every fiber, every molecule.  
  
My hand shakes as I arch it over her face, daring to close the distance between the teardrop and me. It's crystal steel, freezing in its wake as I draw near. Finally, my tip collides with it and I see.  
  
I see Rivers whirling in a sea of red fabric. I see her, ears drawn back, teeth bared, spitting a violent comment back at a foe. I see her playing an invisible flute, skirt rustling in the wind, eyes closed, and moon studding the sky.  
  
Then she is straddling a bird like thing. It's huge, fangs dripping, with giant, leathery wings. She jerks the reins to the side and she blends into another scene. She looks shocked.  
  
An arrow appears from the nothingness and buries itself in Rivers' shoulder. Suddenly, the corpse on the table stirs and plunges its fingers through my shoulder precisely at the same time as the arrow. We fall, kneeling to nothingness and keep tumbling, down, always down.  
  
The same direction I have gone for forever.  
  
Rivers' POV (Suggested Listening: "Fallen" Sarah McLachlan, Afterglow)  
  
There was no ground and there was no river. When I woke up, I was staring into a familiar face. My head has been cradled here before.  
  
Haldir says, "Lady of Hastings?"  
  
I didn't think it was he and I cry out with delight upon his touch. I stand up and sway before screaming. My yell is dripping with happiness. I made it! I fell over the cliff and I live to see another day.  
  
When I'm jumping, I notice an arrow swinging from its perch in my shoulder. Haldir stands up when I sigh with dismay. He cups then end of it in his elvish palm. I stammer, "He...he s-shot me, did...didn't he?"  
  
He nods grimly. Then his grip tightens and with a crisp twist, dislodges it from my shoulder, handing me the blood-crusted arrow primly. I take it and press it to the hole in my chest, but no blood flows. Strange.  
  
I let some of the elf medics patch me up before snatching a chunk of bread and swinging up next to Haldir on his horse.  
  
The three days ride to Helm's Deep takes its toll on me, but I request to blow the horn announcing our entrance. The heavy gates swing open and we dismount. Haldir and I flounce to the front of the group and escort the elves in. Their bows are up in the air, swords buckled to their waists.  
  
For once in my troublesome history, I am ready.  
  
(3rd person)  
  
Legolas handed Aragorn his sword and smiled warmly. The ranger clasped his shoulder and murmured something in Elvish. A dwarf shuffled in, chain mail falling past his feet and cascading onto the floor. "It's a bit tight around the chest."  
  
A horn spilt the grim silence that all maintained. Aragorn followed Legolas as the elf muttered, "That is no orc horn!"  
  
The trio scampered up the armory stairs and vaulted over the next set of stairs. Legolas was almost blown from his shoes when he saw Haldir and the rest of the elves marching into Helm's Deep.  
  
"How is this possible?" Théoden exclaimed, flabbergasted.  
  
Haldir flashed a weary smile. "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."  
  
Aragorn was washed with relief. Someone had come to their aid, when everyone else had fled. He wrapped the elf in a tight embrace, whispering, "Mae govannen, Haldir!"  
  
His eyes were too joyous to see the girl behind the elf, but when Legolas followed the embrace, he did, and Haldir stepped aside. Suddenly, every eye had rounded on the pair.  
  
Rivers turned and curtsied to the elves, which swept her their finest bow. She faced Legolas once more, mouth plastered with a mocking smile. She presented to him the polished arrow and handed the bloody wood to him. "We are proud to fight with men once more." 


	8. Tainted Rain

Chapter 8: Tainted Rain  
  
Rivers' POV  
  
I felt like I had won.  
  
I felt like I had beaten him.  
  
But I didn't taste satisfaction, or guilt. It was a bitter splash of defense, like he might bite back.  
  
I stayed with Aragorn, hovering over the bridge. The early preliminaries of the orc army had been spotted a few minutes ago, and a wave of paralytic terror pervaded the entire encampment. The two kings were reviewing the battle plan for the umpteenth time, and I was just standing there by the wall.  
  
I was in padded leather armour, very mobile and comfortable. I had a simple circlet screwed into my blonde hair, and the fact that I was without a weapon added to my feeling of vulnerability. I couldn't pick up any of the battle-axes or swords, and these morning stars were three times as heavy as the one in Moria.  
  
I could pick up a quarterstaff, but Gimli said it wouldn't break the orcs' amour. I was right arm dominant, but left eye dominant, thus rendering me unable to fire an arrow. I could try a short sword or two daggers, but the orcs' sword would be longer.  
  
"My Lady?"  
  
Aragorn pushes me softly and dumps two nasty blades into my arms. He smiles. "They're the lightest we have."  
  
They are decent-sized hand katars, strap on blades. Easy to put on, easier to kill with, but most difficult to climb in. So if I go over the wall, I'm staying on the ground until Gandalf gets here. "Aragorn, do you remember what Gandalf said?"  
  
He nods as I recite, "'Look to my coming on the first light on the fifth day. Turn to the east.'"  
  
He mumbles, "It is the night on the fourth day. He waits over the hill just to taunt us."  
  
"I think not, m'lord."  
  
I grant him a huge smile, which he gallantly returns. "You have been a wonderful addition to our Fellowship, Lady Rivers. When we overtake this, remind me to thank Lord Elrond for his brilliant idea."  
  
"I am not fond of flattery," I say, turning away with reddening embarrassment.  
  
He laughs. "Nor am I."  
  
A moment of silence ensued as we were both lost for words. I saw Legolas converse with Gimli over Aragorn's shoulder. The scene put air in my lungs and words in my mouth. "My Lord, do you think it is wise to quarrel over women's intelligence?"  
  
He knew of what I spoke. "Women are not as ferocious and men, yet men are not as patient. The chips fall into balance in the end."  
  
"So you believe women not partaking in battle is archaic and traditional?"  
  
"Nothing is archaic or traditional about battle, My Lady."  
  
"Why is it that some think so?" I iced my tone with spite and turned an angry eye on the elf, who was doing a most excellent job of ignoring me.  
  
Aragorn shifted and clapped my shoulder. "He's just worried. About you and Rohan's people. We have a lot on our minds, as do you."  
  
He didn't know Kyler, but he knew I had left some sort of family behind. Only Kyler and our foster mother. And Tess. What were they doing? Was I sleeping?  
  
No. I was supposed to be at Tess' party. I was driving there, wasn't I? What happened? Did I hit I take a wrong turn and hit Isengard?  
  
Wait...  
  
Oh God.  
  
I hit something, I think. I remember the light, and the sting from the stab. Wait, I was stabbed? I still bear the scars, but were they from the crash? I forget.  
  
I need to play that flute again. It's with me, but I can't just whip it out and start playing. They'd rip it away. I tell the ranger, "I need to be alone for a bit. It won't take long."  
  
He nods, granting me my leave, which I take. I cross one of the walls, flinching as I pass Legolas. I know he noticed.  
  
Finally, I'm in a secluded courtyard of stone. Moss marches proudly across the walls as colorful lichen creep from the stones below me. At last, peace in a war-torn world.  
  
The flute flies to my lips and I blow. A tainted Rain falls about the courtyard, muffling the muted music of the Cúron Ivor. My fingers play a familiar tune, as the flute remains cold and silent, the incarnation of crypt's chilling solitude.  
  
I can't feel the old elven magic that was sown into the instrument. I wondered...maybe it thinks I'm dead?  
  
The flute flames beneath my lips and I almost drop it. There is a latent tingling in my lips as the blaze is doused, my mind being washed of any sickening thoughts. I bend my mind and soul on those last moments of life, when I was slipping away...  
  
The flute once again bursts into glorious heat as I concentrate. I'm fully believing that I'm dead and I realize-  
  
-This flute trying to rekindle the spark of life I once sustained.  
  
I'm screaming in my head. I know I'm dead; I'm just a walking corpse...  
  
And I fail, flicker, and fade away into the stonewalls.  
  
(3rd person)  
  
The orc withdrew is sword from the girl's back. A crystal flute rolled away from her dead fingers. His comrade laughed. "What a waste of valor."  
  
The orc snorted. "What imbecile plays a flute in the middle of a battle?"  
  
"A human."  
  
They laughed heartily and continued on their way, ripping through two elves on their way out.  
  
The flute hit a raised stone and retraced its roll. A shine of distant light was building the framework of the instrument and with a wayward spark, burst back into a fiery light. The glare was blinding.  
  
The flute stretched, trying to find the cradle of Sirion's hand. It knew she'd play it and cure herself long enough for her to get help. Why did that hand seem so distant?  
  
Rivers was out cold, obviously unconscious. With a final sigh, her death bell rattled and the flute froze and fell cold. 


	9. On This Day

Chapter 9: On This Day  
  
BIG, LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
  
Alrighty, here I go:   
  
I've been battling with Mary-Sue ever since River's first crossed into Middle Earth. She's had an attitude, gotten her hands dirty with dead orc brains, died, and been shot, but Mary-Sue shines through. But you know, this battle can't go on forever. So you know what? I might kill Rivers.  
  
She has fallen asleep, and she might not wake up.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
Nah.  
  
So the final battle of the Mary-Sue is arising. I'm waking her up long enough to see Haldir die, but the rest is up to you.   
  
Depending on your choice, you will need to come up with a way for Rivers to "not die". I've blown my brains out throughout the whole damn story, so now I need your help!  
  
The colors come stampeding back into vision as her once empty eyes rapidly cram themselves with consciousness. The muted hues of a waking life returned at full force, and her brain short-circuits as it desperately tries to catch up with the rest of her body. Her motor nerves have pulled her to a sitting position, and she realizes she's awake.  
  
She stands up and turns around. A bloody, dumbstruck orc is facing her, cradling her glowing flute in on hand, and shielding his eyes with the other. Rivers places one hand on the crystal shaft, balls up a fist, and brings it swinging across his face.  
  
She clutches the flute to her bosom and is met with swarming pain and the eerie trickle of warm blood across the expanse of her stomach. The instrument has returned her the nerves necessary to feel pain.  
  
_How long do I have before I drown out?_  
  
The energy begins to fail, and she falls to her knees, emitting a tainted squeak as pain jolted from the juncture between her legs. Nothing else matters, she knows she needs help. No spare power is availble to let her cry out so she continues on her legs, futher bruising her knees. She saw a blurred form on the bridge, blinking away at the fuzzy spark burning in her eyes and called vaguely, "Haldir?"  
  
He twists himself into the air and joins her at his knees. She crawls, scampering from side to side, ricocheting off the walls. At last, he's a few feet away and she calls out his name again. He doesn't answer and she screams it again.  
  
"Riv...Rivers?"  
  
A maimed smile breaks her lips. "Yeah! Look, I need help-"  
  
She heard something stir behind her. She whisked around, squinting against the rain. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's me, Legolas. Do you...are you-"  
  
"I don't need a **_man_**'s help. I can get help from someone else-"  
  
He embraced her and whispered into her ear, "Look, I never should have said that. It was wrong, I was wrong, and...I'm sorry."  
  
She sobbed, hitching slightly. "I know." And the world melted away again. 


	10. Ethereal Marauder

Chapter 10: Ethereal Marauder  
  
Legolas' POV  
  
I'm holding her as she fades away, drifting back into the darkening shadows of death...she has been there before.  
  
I remember all the times she smiled, all the times she laughed. She, a stranger walking among torment, had opened her arms to everyone. And what did we do? We threw her off her feet. Twice.  
  
Someone jabbed me in the shoulder. I whirled around, realizing I was unarmed. Fortunately, it was a blonde haired boy, but he was not clad in any armor. I don't know what he was wearing.  
  
He gasped lowly and stroked Rivers' cheek. "Oh, man," he whispered. His head snapped back up, splayed with a solemn expression. "Come on, this way."  
  
He weaved through the corpses on the causeway and alighted the steps to the stronghold with incredible ease. Suddenly, he whirled around. "Where is that blasted flute?"  
  
"I do not know."  
  
"Well, should you find it, give it to Haldir. It will save him."  
  
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, it is too late for that."  
  
His eyes darkened temporarily. "It's ok, he shouldn't have made it anyways."  
  
His words froze my tongue, and I think for a second. "We need to get to safety. Now!"  
  
He nods and leads me around to a gargantuan wooden door. "Go inside here. I have to go." The door open and he ushers me inside. "Put her in the moonlight and whisper a death prayer. Then leave her be."  
  
Aragorn jostled out and took a look at the ruin in my arms. I nod and jog inside, turning back to watch the boy. He waves blankly, matching the expression in his eyes. They are so empty, milky, pearly, dead and frosted.  
  
I know who he is.  
  
The door slams shut, the men rushing forward to brace it.  
  
Author's note: Dreamcast is officially on hiatus. Maybe I'll pick it up in a few years. Just not enough reviews, sorry, folks. 


	11. Crimson Triumph

Chapter 11: Crimson Triumph  
  
**Rivers' POV  
**  
A huge blob of silver against a sheet of black. That's all I can see. Nothing else.  
  
"She lives!"  
  
That voice...so sweet, innocence dripping from his very tone. "Kyler?"  
  
"Good morning, sleepyhead!"  
  
Sure enough, there is that carefree luster in his eyes. I wished I had believed in those eyes six months ago. From my weak position on the bed, I start to cry. I've died, and now I'm with Kyler in Heaven. Which means he's dead, to. I let him down.  
  
He pushes my hair out of the way. "Don't cry, Rivers! I didn't do anything wrong, I even asked Tess just to make sure!"  
  
That made me cry harder. He didn't do anything; it was my fault. I can't even tell him I'm sorry. He smiled, looked pained. "I want you to go back and help everyone. Please?"  
  
He is his normal self. _Oh, I'm so sorry...._  
  
He helps me up, letting me take a few testing steps around the unusually plain room. He smiles before letting it drop. "Are you ready?"  
  
**Legolas' POV  
**  
The door is so close to giving out. Shards are flying everywhere, accompanied by think waves of dust. I'm probably choking, but I'm still a bit peaked about that boy.  
  
I know who he is; he was Rivers' brother. Did she summon him? Did I? Did that flute do it?  
  
"We cannot hold much longer!"  
  
Aragorn shouted, "How long do you need?"  
  
Théoden took another look at the gate. Soldiers were leaning on it, firing arrows into the many holes ripped across it. "As long as you can give me!"  
  
He nodded at Gimli, and they sprang into a stone corridor. "Timbers! Brace the gate!"  
  
I drew my bowstring tighter and released it. The men watched as it twirled, and stopped in the hand of an orc shaking one of the gate's many holes. The hand panicked and repaired to safety. Before their heads turned to look back at me, another arrow was released. Ah, the agile pleasures of being Elvish.  
  
Boards fell against the door to absorb the damage from the battering ram. Théoden stuck his head through a hole. "Aragorn! Get out of there!"  
  
The thrusts against the door became more frequent. And that's when I caught a flash of blonde near the door.  
  
It was Rivers; standing at the doors while soldier pushed themselves with all their might. She just stood there, empty and confused. I bounded over and shook her shoulder. "Rivers! How did you get here? I left down in the cavern window!"  
  
She turned around. Those weren't her eyes. They were too empty. Her hand slid across my chest. "Legolas..." She eyes went completely blank as she collapsed against me. That's when my world fell down around me.

  
The board came down, woofing the breath out of him as he braced the impact. Rivers fell to the ground, allowing him to fall over her. His muscles were tensed in an attempt to save Rivers, but her stone cold corpse- like state didn't let her leave the floor.  
  
He was over her. "Riv...Rivers," he snarled through his teeth. "Go."  
  
Her eyes fluttered open. He almost smiled. There was that poisonous glint he knew so well. It was back, and so was she. "**Oh, God**! _Legolas_!"  
  
An armored foot stamped dust into her face. A cackle hissed over her head. "Illicit lovers. Sleep tight."  
  
The pressure increased, driving him lower. His muscles ached, tensed with the effort to shove. A sharp gasp for breath drew a sob from Rivers. "No! Get off!"  
  
The pain sank him lower, gasping and pained. Rivers curled her arms under his shoulders. "Legolas, I'm so sorry... I'm sorry for everything! I never meant any of those things! I couldn't ever say that to someone like you!"  
  
She felt him snap his arms to her sides and throw her out. The board clattered to the floor, and in a flurry of movement, Rivers found that she was clinging to the elf, feet planted firmly on the ground. He poked her with a knife. "Do the honors?"  
  
"Thank you." She planted the knife deep in their tormentor's back. He slumped to the ground. She returned the knife to him. "Sorry to soil a nice blade."  
  
"I like this kind of filth."  
  
He swept her up, and sped after the retreating party of men. He placed her on her feet after they were safely sealed in the fortress' caverns. Théoden shook his head. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"  
  
"Ride out with me. Ride out to meet them."  
  
Théoden turned to Aragorn. "For death and glory."  
  
"For Rohan and your people."  
  
"The sun is rising," Gimli quipped.  
  
Rivers shook Aragorn. "Gandalf!"  
  
The same thought hit him at the same time. Getting a hint, Théoden said, "Yes, yes! The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound here one last time!"  
  
A few people cheered. All were smiling. And it felt good to smile.  
  
Rivers sighed, looking up at Aragorn fondly. The king broadened his grin. "What happens now, Green Lady Of Mirkwood?"  
  
She blushed, but said, "And the rest, they say, is history!"


	12. A New Hope

Chapter 12: A New Hope

Rivers' POV

Gandalf and Eomer demolished the rest of the orcs that stood against us as they were supposed to and the expected talk on the hill had been held and dismissed, awaiting the party afterwards. Everyone was there, except for me.

This is the melancholic part where I reflect on how many lives we lost and how the hell I keep waking up alive and well.

The lost lives part was becoming more and more real with the growing silence. Not an hour ago was the place swarming with orcs and adrenaline-stuffed humans and elves. Sometimes people will come out, fling themselves over a corpse, and be dragged away by the ears, screaming, scratching, biting, and kicking. The aftermath was worse than the fall.

"Mornië utúlië," a voice breathes behind me. A high elf sits next to me, the silkiness matching the slippery tone of his hair.

I smile. _Darkness has come._

"Mornië alantië, Legolas."

He manages to twist the remaining potion of his eternal frown into a smile. A sigh rushes from him. "Darkness has yet to fall, Riv- Lady Rivers." I cock an eyebrow.

He grins mournfully. "I apologize. In my mind you are Rivers, without the title."

In his mind? He thinks of me? "You can call me that...Riv sounds nice when an elf says it. Did you come out for a formal apology?"

"No, I have come to tell you of your brother. I was led by him to sanctuary."

"I saw him, too," I admit. I could tell that he had received some sort of transcendent call. Even an elf couldn't have kept me alive. "He sent me back to help, I guess. But he won't help me next time. I have proved twice that I can't defend myself. I think the best I can do is patch everyone up."

That would be better for Middle Earth's history. I don't want to end up as the reason for a victory and show up in a hobbit's history book. Legolas smiles, and we paused for long moments.

"I know not of a simple woman to be related to you, Rivers. I believe you have something to give us before the sun sets on us."

"The sun will set on Aragorn's crown, and victory will be ours to share." Yikes, the wisdom-ness is rubbing off. Too much Gandalf in that one.

A chuckle was drawn from him. "How do you know this?"

To him, I wasn't a prophetess. I was Rivers. I looked at those blue eyes, that long hair. His face seemed to create its own hallowing light. "Guren bêd enni."

"No i brestanneth anírach tírad vi amar."

I look up at him. "I don't speak much Sindarin. Just neat little things I pick up every now and then."

"Be the change you want to see in the world." His head turns. "There is one thing I must ask... why did you come to the gate before it fell?"

What is he talking about? "I woke up beneath you and the timber when the orc was stepping on us."

His eyes frosted over and he turned them on the sunrise. The crimsons and oranges bathed the land in colors existing without them. In that moment, a bloody scheme of colour washed over his face, and I could feel him repress what he was about to say.

"Let us not speak of tonight again. May legend take it, may fate accept it, may we abide by it."

I nodded. Life seemed so hatefully blissful here. Everyone lived for the calm stretches between the bloodshed, and died on the swords of their fathers. Not a soul escaped the reckless blunder; some fled before it, others fell into it. There was no in between, either you fought or you perished. Harsh, but teaching.

And so begins the final stage of war: the deep breath before the plunge. But when, pray tell, when will the fall come?

Fin

A/N: Book III is coming very soon, within the week! Please review so I can put this Book aside!


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